Questions

I remember two distinct cuts. One was executive and pronounced in a question while the other was diffuse and dependent on the first as a foundation. First, the front edge of the cut was etched by ‘what is real and what is not?’ and the incision was completed by a secondary response, ‘isn’t the world made of atoms?’. The conditions of my fascination were set, and I have come to realize that everyone doesn’t think to ask nor to continue to entertain such questions because such heinous questions question everything by putting everything into question. Questions are, in this manner, quests unique to someone. I ask and question the origin of the cosmos and I’ve continued to contemplate the depths of my self in the vastness of the world through the same curiosity which gave rise to these questions in the first instance. What will follow from here is a portrayal of hope: my experience in thought; a contemplation on existence.